


Bad Santa

by candygramme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23415313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candygramme/pseuds/candygramme
Summary: What's a man to do when he's stuck waiting in the mall?
Kudos: 3





	Bad Santa

Bad Santa

It was Christmas Eve. The Mall was packed with people of all ages, pushing and shoving in a concerted attempt to inconvenience as many others as possible. Christmas muzak blared. Children screamed, harrassed moms shoved their progeny along in strollers that appeared to be specially designed to take the skin off unwary ankles, and hapless young men were towed along by some lemming-like compulsion to buy teeny frillies for their girlfriends even though they had no clue about their sizes. All in all it was bedlam.

There was a choir in the food court singing Adeste Fideles in wild conflict with The Little Drummer Boy emanating from the Mall speakers, and all together it was a terrible place to be.

Dean was waiting for Sam, who was taking way too long to buy whatever he needed to buy. Who the hell knew with Sam? As far as Dean was concerned, this place was worse than Purgatory, and, besides, he’d already eaten a whole pile of festive fare. Now he just wanted to get out of the place.

He’d bought Sam’s gift a week ago, when there were still some worthwhile goods in the local 7-11, and he had no interest in consuming anything else — apart perhaps for more pie. He wondered if Sam would even notice if he made his escape and went to sit in Baby. It was at that moment that he perceived something halfway interesting.

Santa Claus was sweeping in on a gaudy, tinsel bedecked sleigh towed by a pair of dispirited looking elves, and Dean decided that it was time to tell Santa how good he’d been all year.A quick check of the line waiting revealed that it wasn’t as yet very long. So, grinning, he took his place behind a beleaguered Dad who was attempting to wrangle three very small kids.

Santa wasn’t actually in place yet, but there were a number of kids in a group jostling for place behind him, including a spotty faced adolescent who insisted on treading on his feet in a really annoying way as he jostled and and shoved with his buddies.

Dean liked kids, he really did, but sometimes they needed smacking down, so after the third time having his shins hacked by what appeared to be a pair of steel toe-capped work boots, he’d had enough.

Reaching behind him to grab the offending tween by the scruff of the neck, Dean hauled him up onto his tippy toes and stooped until he could snarl into the youngster’s face.

“You wanna live to see Santa, kid?” he asked, voice as low and menacing as he could make it.

The youngster gulped. “Uh, please don’t... Sorry sir. I didn’t mean it.”

There was a suspicion of tears betrayed by the pink nose and the shiny eyes of the dangling kid, and Dean dropped him back on his feet again. “Step on me again, and it’s curtains for you, kiddo.”

The line was moving now. A little slowly, but Santa had to do his stuff, and most of the toddlers in the line in front of him were hiding their eyes and bursting into tears as soon as they sat on Santa’s knee, save for one little girl who seized a double handful of Santa’s flowing white beard and yanked. The beard almost parted company with its owner at that point, and a gasp went up from the parents in attendance. Fortunately, Santa succeeded in keeping his identity cloaked in mystery, and the line kept moving.

Soon it was Dean’s turn, and he stepped forward, paid his $10 and moved forward toward Santa. This particular Santa was probably padded, but he was of small, wiry stature, and as Dean plonked himself down on Santa’s lap, Santa said, “Hi, Dean. Still a child at heart, I see.”

Dean was about to launch into the things on his Christmas list—a flame thrower, a new differential for Baby and a muzzle for Sam—when he suddenly recognized that voice. “Oh, my Chuck,” he said, smiling for the camera as he did so and hoping that the fear in his eyes would look like joy in the resulting picture.

“I saw what you did to that kid who was after you in the line. That wasn’t very kind, Dean.”

“Jeez, Chuck. He was causing me actual bodily harm. Take a look at my ankles if you don’t believe me.” Jensen tried to channel Sam’s puppy eyes, but could tell that it wasn’t really working. “Oh, come on. Surely parts for Baby aren’t off the table?”

“You know I have a soft spot for you and your brother, Dean, but I can’t let this pass without some kind of penalty.” Chuck thought for a minute and then beamed. The elf with the camera took a second photo at that point, and Dean knew that he’d make sure Sam would never ever see that photo as long as he lived. His face was a picture of misery, and some things were better not seen. “So,” Chuck was saying, “I’ll see about your Christmas list, but in return, you’re going to have to take over from me for the rest of the shift.”

Dean didn’t have the chance to say, ”Oh, no, anything but that,” before he found himself wearing Santa’s outfit, and Chuck was no longer anywhere to be seen. Seconds later, the kid with the hobnail boots was sitting on his lap telling him about how much he wanted a BB gun and a copy of Call of Duty: Infinite Warfare for Christmas.

“Listen, kid, forget the BB gun for now and stick with stuff that won’t take your eye out. I’ll see what we can do, but the elves aren’t making guns this year am I right, guys?” Both elves nodded so hard he thought that their heads might fall off, and Dean smirked at the kid. The smirk vanished as the kid hopped off his lap, hacking his shins with lethal accuracy as he went.

Of course, it was just at that moment that Sam chose to reappear, and Dean knew then and there that he would never live the day down.

Despite his explanation about Chuck, Sam Ho-ho-ho’ed his way back to Baby, and so did Chuck, once they got back to the bunker.

Dean had the last laugh though, because Chuck had brought a nice, shiny new differential for Baby with him, and who knew, there could be a flame-thrower in his stocking on Christmas day, if he was really good.


End file.
